


Sin and Intrigue

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: AU, Developing Relationship, M/M, Writer AU, alternative career
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: In the opposite corner, his eyes came to rest on a man, sitting alone in a booth. His hair was swept into a neat wave, his suit jacket cast over the back of the booth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his eyes scanned a newspaper clasped in long fingers. Even across the room, through the smoky haze, the languid jazz, the crowd of people, Sonny watched the man look up for a moment, and their eyes locked. His throat went dry.





	Sin and Intrigue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Astronaut_Milky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronaut_Milky/gifts).



> This is way longer than I intended it to be, and I considered chopping it up into chapters, but then I couldn't figure out where to break it up so I just dumped it into one. Its also not really betaed. Sorry. I'll probably go back and clean it up later.

Sonny collapsed into his desk chair, his hands tightly clasped around a newspaper. It was going on the nineteenth hour of his shift, and the precinct was only just starting to come alive again with the hustle and bustle of the morning crew. He’d been in the interrogation room for five hours straight and Fin and the Lieu had finally tapped him out. Across the desk, Amanda sank into her own chair, steaming mugs of coffee in each hand. She slid one across to him before taking a sip of her own. She sighed contentedly, though the coffee did nothing for the exhaustion that had settled on her face somewhere around eight hours ago. 

“Thanks,” he nodded, moving the mug closer to the edge of his desk before leaning back in the chair, springs creaking. He wrestled the newspaper open, rather ungracefully, before he found the section he had been looking for. 

“Since when do you read the paper?” Amanda teased lightly, “doesn’t Siri give you the news updates?” She gestured to the watch at his wrist. 

Sonny just rolled his eyes before lowering his gaze back to the paper in front of him. “Rhadamanthus doesn’t publish online,” he explained slowly, but his focus on the conversation with Rollins faded with each word as his eyes scanned the newsprint carefully. 

“What’s the obsession with that, anyway?” Amanda took another sip of her coffee, leaning back in her chair to kick her heels up onto her desk. “Some guy publishes a few poems and short stories in the Times and everyone loses their shit?”

Sonny tore his eyes away from the paper long enough to shoot her a look of indignation. “Rhadamanthus could be a woman, nobody knows who it is. They publish anonymously. Ariel told me that she heard the Times editor doesn’t even know who it is, that each piece is mailed in with no return address.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Amanda held up her hands playfully, “I thought you and Ms. Raw Foods broke up after the Emma Lawrence case,” she quirked an eyebrow at him, smirk playing across her lips. 

Sonny huffed and set the paper down on his desk, apparently resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to focus on reading it while Amanda was still across from him at her desk, decidedly not working. “We did,” he nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, wincing as it burned his lips and tongue. Amanda had a mouthful of scar tissue, could drink coffee straight out of the pot. Usually, Sonny knew to be more cautious. “We decided to try and be friends, only dated a couple months anyway. And we didn’t really have time to invest much.”

“Sounds like a load of crap,” Amanda replied simply, always tactful. 

“If you’re done being nosy, I’d like to finish this. The message boards are blowing up about this and I don’t want it spoiled,” Sonny replied dryly. 

“Alright, alright,” she relented with a soft chuckle, “I’ll go call the ADA, she probably wants an update on the case anyway,” Amanda disappeared into the break room, phone to her ear. 

Sonny picked up the paper again, a soft smile spreading across his face as he absorbed the words in front of him with careful reverence. 

Sonny wouldn’t have called himself a fanboy, but he knew that his tendency towards obsessions, his deep seeded affection for great literature, and the cultish mystique that surrounded Rhadamanthus was a particularly deadly combination of circumstances. He had been following the publications for months, since the very first short story had found a home on the front page of the Editorials section back in March. Sometimes he wondered if it was just the allure of anonymity, or the suspense that accompanied the wait between publications, no regularity, no schedule, no way to know if the next one would ever come. The anticipation was undeniably addicting. 

But Sonny clipped each piece carefully from the pedantic dribble that surrounded it on the page, and when he revisited a short story, or a poem, it never seemed to have lost any of its luster. And certainly he wasn’t the only one who thought so. Every week there seemed to be a new story, a new theory trying to discern who the shadowy figure was behind such a mouthful of a penname. 

***

They had all gotten the weekend off after a particularly tough couple of weeks, three open unrelated rape cases, and the newest ADA in the rotation, Gomez, was more than a bit of a hardass. She had been reluctant to get them search warrants, arrest warrants, and Olivia had had to threaten to go over her head to convince the ADA to indict one of the perps, despite the overwhelming amount of evidence they had. 

“Hey Carisi,” Fin called as he walked into the squad room early one morning.

Sonny looked up from the file in front of him. He was massively behind on his paperwork and had gotten in an hour early to try and catch up. “Yeah Fin?” He perked up, hoping that maybe they had caught a case that he could use as an excuse to ditch the paperwork for the rest of the day. Instead, Fin just dropped a newspaper, still folded, on his desk atop the case file he had been going through. 

Sonny panicked for a moment internally, running through his conversation with Ariel the last time they had gone for drinks, but he couldn’t think of anything he had let slip, he was so much more careful with what he said to her, even if she maintained that she wasn’t the source-

Fin’s voice broke him out of his inner scrambling, “your boyfriend published another piece. Overheard some yuppies talking about it at the coffee cart,” he gestured to the newspaper. “Figured you hadn’t seen it yet.”

Sonny huffed but picked up the paper with undeniable excitement. “Nobody even knows if Rhadamanthus is a man or woman, Fin,” but the sergeant just shrugged his shoulders taking a seat at his desk. 

“Okay then, your significant other,” he added simply, opening up a file on his desk. 

Sonny rolled his eyes, “thanks though,” he flashed an appreciative smile to the sergeant who didn’t even bother to look up, just nodded. Sonny turned to the paper in front of him, it had been almost three weeks since the last publication, the longest space between pieces, and the whispers in the dark corners of the web had seemed to suggest that Rhadamanthus was done. Sonny was thrilled to find them wrong. 

***

“Don’t you think this is getting a little ridiculous?” Bella puled a face as she sat on Sonny’s couch, flipping through the book he had taped all of the newspaper clippings into. 

Sonny crossed his legs on the floor, his niece Christina wiggling in his lap, pulling at his tie. “What do you mean?” he asked, tickling Christina’s sides, earning shrieking giggles from the toddler. 

“You’re obsessed, Sonny, I haven’t seen you this fixated since Jeanie Kerack in fourth grade,” Bella rolled her eyes at him. 

Sonny grimaced, “I hate peanut butter,” he muttered before glancing up at his sister, shrinking under her knowing gaze. “I’m not obsessed, I just like the the writing, its no different than buying a book,” he added defensively, pulling Christina back into his lap as she tried to crawl off. 

“Right because buying a book at a book store is totally the same thing as obsessively clipping newspaper articles and then pasting them into your diary like a love struck school girl. You’ve totally got a crush on this writer,” Bella stated matter-of-factly as she set the book down on the coffee table. “This is why you’re alone, because you spend your time obsessing over people you’ve never even met.” 

The detective could feel the hot flush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. Nobody could get under his skin quite like his little sister. “You’re so annoying,” he wrinkled is nose, “how could I have a crush on someone I don’t know? Someone I’ve never even seen? Hell I don’t even know if Rhadamanthus is a man or woman,” he trailed off. 

“Since when does that matter to you?” Bella quipped immediately, raising an eyebrow. 

“It doesn’t, I just…” he trailed off again. Maybe she was right, in a way. But even if he was crushing on the faceless mastermind behind the shroud of Rhadamanthus, it was actionless anyway. There was nothing that Sonny could do about it even if he wanted to. 

***

The lingering scent of Cuban cigar smoke hug heavily in the air, cut through only by the slow, molasses jazz melody of the musicians on stage. The attention of the room was fixated on the stage, the soft sensual sway of hips, the gentle curves and slopes of the dancers. It was impossible not to be drawn into the hazy allure. For all, it seemed, except one man sitting alone at the bar in a pinstriped three-piece suit. He had a glass of scotch in one hand, and a gold pen in another as he scratched away in a tanned leather notebook. 

“Hey Boss,” the bartender leaned against the counter, setting another scotch in front of the man,” did you want something to eat before Santiago closes the kitchen?”

The man just shook his head, not bothering to look up from the notebook in front of him. “Isn’t it early to close the kitchen?” He added after a moment, a frown etched into his sharp features.

“Nah, boss, its almost one AM. Girls are finishing up the show,” the bartender nodded to the stage. The man didn’t turn to look, just checked his watch like he didn’t quite believe the man in front of him. But the Rolex only confirmed the assertion, and he sighed heavily, setting his pen on the bar. 

“So it is,” he rubbed his palm against his eyes, trying to focus again, when he felt a hand come to rest on his thigh. 

“Hey Boss, you look lonely,” her voice was low, husky as she slid into his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, long fingers toying with his silk tie. He would have recognized even without looking at her, once of the dancers. 

The man turned away, shrugging out of her grasp, “Rebecca,” his deep growl was only vaguely threatening, but it was enough to get her to slide off of his lap with a huff. 

He was the owner of the nightclub, The Vault, though it was more of a speakeasy vibe than a night club, in an old bank that he had converted a few years back with resounding success. Nobody had known his name back then, but Rafael Barba was a bit of an infamous character. He had burst onto the New York City real estate scene with the purchase of the old bank, and the apartments above, pouring millions into the renovations. Nobody had seen him coming, no one quite sure where he had come from, or what sort of ventures he’d been in to amass the sort of capital to purchase real estate in downtown Manhattan. 

He sighed and closed the notebook in front of him. “I want this place spotless,” he nodded to the bartender before downing the rest of his scotch. He collected his jacket off the back of his chair and his notebook before heading to the elevator and up to the penthouse apartment. 

Rafael stripped off his suit jacket as soon as he entered the apartment, his vest following, and he poured another glass of scotch, from the collection of bottles on a dark cherry bookcase. He settled into an armchair, kicking off his shoes. He craned his neck, reaching to the coffee table to pick up the newspaper. He flipped the pages open before pulling out the editorial section. Viridian eyes scanned the front page and the softest hint of a smile played across his lips. 

***

“Sonny come on, you gotta come with,” a woman smiled, clapping the detective on the shoulder as she joined the group circled around a table in Sonny’s favorite coffee shop. 

“Melissa, you know I never have time,” he laughed, taking a sip from the ceramic coffee mug,” its hard enough finding time to grab coffee with you guys.” It had been sort of strange, they were his law school study group, had gone from seeing them several times a week during classes and study sessions, to barely finding the time once a month. 

“You managed to do night school while working as a detective, Sonny. I think you can manage one night at the hippest club in town. Everyone’s saying that Rhadamanthus sometimes writes there.” Nathan added. 

Sonny let out an exasperated sigh, “and people are saying that Rhadamanthus lives in Europe and writes at Parisian cafes, and that they’re actually a high school student, and that they’re in jail.” His hands gestured wildly to accent his point. “Nobody has any idea who Rhadamanthus is, so how is anyone supposed to know where they hang out?”

“Oh come on, Sonny, don’t be a stick in the mud,” Natalie laughed, “It’ll be fun, its this cool 1920’s themed bar in this old bank. You said you don’t have to be back to work tonight so come out with us, please,” she drew the last syllable out into a whine. 

Sonny groaned dramatically, pulling a face, but he finally relented. “I guess I don’t really have much of a say in this, do I,” he sighed through a smile. 

“Definitely not, you still owe Melissa after the moot court debacle,” Natalie teased, earning a loud chorus of laughter from the group. 

***

Sonny frowned as he shifted in front of the floor length mirror in his apartment. He wore suits to work every day, and with a little guidance from his mentor he’d developed a marginally respectable sense of style. Pinstripes, though, pinstripes were a new touch, one he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. Nathan had insisted that if they were going to be hanging out at the infamous bar that _allegedly_ was a favorite haunt of Rhadamanthus, that they all had to play the part. 

So he had reluctantly climbed on board, and spent the afternoon at his tailor’s having, a brand new suit hemmed and tucked in the right places. The old Italian man had insisted that the navy blue with gold pin stripes accented his hair perfectly, that the wide collar of the shirt, the high arm holes of the jacket, the subtle tuck of the waist suited him like a remnant of another, more stylish era. 

Sonny smoothed down the jacket, it did look nice, fit him better than any of his other suits, and he wondered how much teasing he would get if he wore it to work. With a shrug, he grabbed his black pea coat and headed out the door into the fall chill to catch a cab. 

Natalie and Melissa were already waiting on the street outside the doors to the bar, huddled close together to brave the wind in their flapper dresses, sequin headbands cutting across their bobs. 

“You two certainly decided to go all out,” he remarked with a laugh, leaning in to exchange brief hugs. The girls were definitely the closest thing he had maintained as friends since becoming a detective. It helped that they were usually both just as busy as he was, only second year associates at a huge full-service firm. 

“Could say the same about you,” Melissa raised an eyebrow suggestively as she gestured to him. “You pulling out your Mafioso roots? You look like you should be sitting with your back to a wall, smoking a cigar, telling some poor sap that you’ll help him out, but that he’s gonna owe you.” 

Sonny let out a loud laugh, slinging an arm around her shoulder, “God, Melissa, I missed your wild imagination,” he added, smile still pulling at the corners of his eyes. “The Carisi’s are very much upstanding citizens, I’ll have you know. If there’s a crime family connection, its been lost on me.” They all looked up as the last two members of their party arrived, exchanging greetings like it hadn’t been only hours since they had left the coffee shop that morning. 

“Are we gonna go outside, or just stand out here freezing,” Natalie piped up, her teeth chattering. 

Sonny wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the room they walked into wasn’t quite it. It was nice, elegant even, a dark cherry circular bar in the middle of the room, the remnants of its history as a bank still evident in the architecture. He shrugged out of his jacket, offering it to the coat check, pocketing his ticket before looking around again. There were a few people lingering at the bar, a few more sitting in a corner booth chattering away in hushed tones. It didn’t strike Sonny as the popular place that his friends had made it out to be. 

But Melissa grabbed his elbow after they had all shed their outer layers, and guided the group towards the back of the cavernous room, down a small flight of stone steps to a heavy, antique vault door. Without warning, the door swung forward, and a towering beast of a man looming over them. 

“State your business?” He asked, voice gruff, no nonsense. Sonny raised an eyebrow. They had mentioned it was more of a speakeasy than a nightclub, but he had assumed they meant in atmosphere, this seemed like a bit much. 

Melissa didn’t miss a beat though, just pulled two hundred dollar bills out of her clutch, offering it to the bouncer between two fingers, a sly smile playing across her face. Apparently that was the right answer, because he stepped aside, and the group filed into a smaller, but much more interesting room. 

Sonny couldn’t help but scan the room quickly, his police training was something that he couldn’t shake, even off duty. He took a breath in, the undeniable acrid cloud of cigar smoke. There was a similar dark cherry bar off to the side, little bursts of flames and flips of glass bottles as the bartenders showcased their talents. Straight ahead was the stage, and he let his gaze linger for a moment on the dancers, the slow undulation of hips to the jazz music playing through the crowd of conversations. 

And in the opposite corner, his eyes came to rest on a man, sitting alone in a booth. His hair was swept into a neat wave, his suit jacket cast over the back of the booth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his eyes scanned a newspaper clasped in long fingers. Even across the room, through the smoky haze, the languid jazz, the crowd of people, Sonny watched the man look up for a moment, and their eyes locked. His throat went dry. 

“Sonny come on we’re getting drinks,” Natalie pressed into his side, looking up at him with a grin. He tore his eyes away and followed the group to the bar as they ordered their prohibition era cocktails and settled into a booth. He took a sip of his drink with a grimace, he’d never been a fan of gin, but they’d decided to keep everything in theme, and as the conversation turned back to Rhadamanthus, the way it always seemed to do lately, Sonny found himself glancing to the corner again, looking for the man, but the booth was empty. 

“You guys really think Rhadamanthus actually spends time here?” He asked, tearing his eyes away from the crowd and back to the group of friends in front of him. “I mean, it definitely has that sort of vibe like this place could be in one of her stories, but how’d the saying go? Of all the gin joints,” he chucked lightly at his own joke before taking another drink from his glass. 

Natalie rolled her eyes at the joke, leaning forward across the table on her elbows, “her stories, huh? You know something we don’t?” A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, and Sonny wondered for a moment exactly how much of a light weight she’d become since their law school drinking binges. 

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, settling back into the seat, “historically, a lot of women hid behind pen names, to avoid the stigma of being a woman author, instead of just an author,” Sonny took another sip of his drink with a frown. 

“What is this?” Melissa laughed incredulously, “Sonny’s finally admitting to having a theory about Rhadamanthus instead of tearing us down with his alleged impartiality?” 

“Oh shut up,” Sonny teased before finishing off the rest of his drink. He excused himself from the chorus of taunting with a poignant eye roll, and wandered back over to the bar. 

He settled into one of the bar stools, waiting for the bartender to finally turn his attention away from the group of leggy girls at the end of the bar. Usually the wait would have made him impatient, but instead, he turned to scan the room again, wondering if the man he had seen earlier had slipped out without him noticing. 

“What can I get for ya?” Sonny’s attention was dragged back to the bar, and he offered the bartender a wide smile. 

“Oh can I just get a bourbon on the rocks?” He asked, and the bartender nodded, placing a glass in front of him before turning to grab a bottle Sonny didn’t recognize off the shelf. 

“You got a tab open?” the bartender asked as he poured the amber liquid into the glass. 

Sonny opened his mouth to reply, but a hand fell to his shoulder, and he was cut off, “don’t worry about it, Joe,” the voice was low, husky, undeniably authoritative, and Sonny shuddered under the touch. 

“Oh that’s okay,” Sonny replied quickly, turning to look at the man had spoken, but his words caught in his throat, and he struggled to swallow. The man, from earlier, Sonny noted, he had green eyes.

The man brushed against Sonny’s side as he took a seat in the bar stool next to him. “Usually, when someone buys you a drink, you say thank you,” he remarked dryly, picking up his own glass off the bar top, lips curling into a grin before he took a sip. 

“Right, sorry, thank you,” Sonny cursed internally, he didn’t usually get flustered, didn’t usually let people trip him up, even if they were incredibly attractive. He raised the glass, tipping it to the man next to him before taking a sip. 

“Haven’t seen you here before, is this the first time your presence has graced my speakeasy?” The man twisted in his seat, knee brushing against Sonny’s. Innocently, Sonny reminded himself, a product of the proximity, but he could feel his skin still burning where they’d touched. 

“Uh yeah, I don’t usually have much time to get out, my friends sort of had to drag me here,” he admitted, gesturing to the booth, and he could see the glances he was getting from the law school crew. Ignoring them, he turned back to the man beside him. “Wait, your speakeasy?” He quirked his eyebrow. 

“Rafael Barba,” he held out his hand to the detective, “I own the place.” 

“Oh wow,” Sonny reached out, shaking his hand, the contact lingering just a little too long. He swallowed dryly. “Dominick Carisi, call me Sonny,” he added, mouth pulling back into a dimpled smile. “This place is incredible, its like something out of another time, or a story or something,” he looked around again before letting his gaze settle on the man in front of him. 

Rafael cocked his head to the side, “fell in love with the building when I was little,” he admitted slowly, “wanted to restore it to some of its former glory, and couldn’t imagine anything more fitting than this little place.” 

The silence persisted between them, not uncomfortably so, and Sonny glanced back down to the drink in front of him, nearly empty. There was something incredibly intimidating about the man beside him, but also something intriguing, and he couldn’t muster the nerve to excuse himself back to his table of waiting friends. 

Rafael tipped back the rest of his drink before he turned to Sonny, “perhaps this is too forward, but my apartment is the top floor…” he trailed off, eyebrow raised inquisitively. 

Sonny dragged his tongue over his lips, considering the implication. He knew nothing about the man, other than that he had to be incredibly wealthy, was incredibly attractive, and apparently wanted to take him home. He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on dark green. 

They cut through the crowd with careful precision, and Sonny could taste the acrid cigar smoke in the back of his throat as he tried to convince his head to stop spinning. He was only two drinks in, not enough alcohol to use it as an excuse, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to be there. Rafael’s eyes flashed, dark green, and Sonny could feel a burning heat radiating from his the pit of his stomach. His back hit the elevator wall as soon as the doors parted, the length of Rafael’s body pressed against his in a searing kiss. 

Every synapse in his brain was going in rapid fire, hyper aware of Rafael’s long fingers curling around the base of his neck, pulling him down just ever so slightly, the barely-there stubble brushing against soft skin, hot breath that tasted like peppermint and expensive scotch. He lost himself in the moment, arm circling Rafael’s waist. 

The doors parted again too soon for Sonny’s liking, and Rafael pulled away, still so composed, so put together, that the detective might have thought he imagined the whole thing, if not for the taste persisting on his lips. 

Sonny followed him off the elevator, stepping into the penthouse. If the circumstances were different, he might have let his gaze linger on the room, the decorations over the fireplace, the books on dark cherry bookshelves, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man, the gentle saunter of his hips as he walked towards the bedroom, shedding his vest, peeling suspenders off broad shoulders. 

Rafael cast a glance over his shoulder, that sly smirk still plastered to his face, “coming?” And Sonny realized that he had been frozen in place, only two steps off the elevator. 

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, propelling himself forward with an embarrassing eagerness. 

***

The sky was still dark, just the barest hint of pink and grey on the horizon when Sonny woke up, twisted in silk sheets. He paused for a moment, to orient himself, and the memories of the night before washed over him. Rafael shifted slightly, and Sonny realized that they were still entwined, legs tangled together, the man’s arm casually throw over his waist. He shouldn’t have stayed, Sonny cursed internally. He’d never been good at casual, never really been the sort of person who could sleep around and leave it at that. As his eyes traced the soft rise of Rafael’s bare shoulder, the dip of his waist, the curve of his hip pressed against Sonny’s side, Sonny frowned, he knew next to nothing about the man beside him but couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

The alarm on his watch beeped a shrill tune, and he groaned softly, silencing it as quickly as he could. There was still time to sneak out, leave without an exchange of words, false promises that they’d meet up again. Sonny knew it wasn’t going to happen again, was sure that he was another notch in the elegant bed post. 

Beside him Rafael shifted again, eyes fluttering open, and Sonny cursed internally again. Too slow. “What time is it?” He asked, voice soft and raspy with sleep, and maybe a bit from the night before. 

Sonny untangled their legs, sitting up in the bed, and Rafael pulled his arm back, though his fingers trailed softly over Sonny’s skin as he did so, and the detective couldn’t help but shiver. “Five am, I have to be into work at six,” he replied, his own voice was hoarse, and he swallowed hard trying not to think about why. 

“So early,” Rafael groaned, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “My cell is on the dresser,” he gestured, “do you mind?” 

Sonny furrowed his brow but stood up from the bed, pulling on crumpled boxers before reaching the dresser. He picked up the phone, handing it to Rafael before looking around for the rest of his clothes in the low light. 

“Hi, I know its early, but could you send a car around?” Sonny glanced back over to the bed, where Rafael had his phone pressed against his ear. Rafael hung up the phone and tossed it across to the other side of the bed. “Town car will be out front in ten minutes, can take you home or to work…” he trailed off sitting up just a little in the bed. “Where do you work, anyway?” 

Sonny stepped into his wrinkled suit pants, fumbling with the button before looking up at Rafael. “I’m a detective.” He could see the grin spreading across Rafael’s face, only illuminated by the neon glow of street signs outside. He pulled his shirt on, fingers working nimbly at the buttons. 

He ran a hand through his hair trying to tame it somewhat, “I’ll just, uh, let myself out,” Sonny mumbled awkwardly, not sure what he was supposed to say. 

Rafael chuckled, pushing himself up out of the bed, crossing the floor in a few quick steps, pressing a soft, heated kiss to Sonny’s unsuspecting lips. “I had fun,” he added. 

“I uh,” Sonny could feel the burning heat of a blush spreading across the bridge of his nose. “I did too,” he fought to keep the giddy grin off his face. Rafael just nodded, retreating to the plush comfort of his bed, and Sonny headed for the elevator. 

***

Thanks to the whims of Manhattan traffic, Sonny managed to arrive at the precinct only ten minutes late, though he had no chance to stop at home. He knew he still smelled of stale cigar smoke and sex, but he had a change of clothes and a toothbrush sitting, waiting for him in his locker. It was just a matter of crossing the bullpen to get there. Which naturally meant passing by Fin and Amanda’s desks. And Olivia’s office. 

Sonny groaned internally as he stepped off the elevator to see all three of them hovering around Amanda’s desk, the whiteboard pulled over. No doubt they’d caught a case, and there was no way he’d be able to sneak over to the lockers without being noticed. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” Amanda called, craning her neck as she spotted Sonny hesitating by the elevator. He sighed, shoulders slumping and he walked over to his desk. “Jesus, did you roll around in an ash tray,” she added, wrinkling her nose. 

“Ha. Ha.” Sonny remarked dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“You’re late, Carisi,” Olivia glanced up from the file she was holding, peering at him over the rim of her glasses.

“I know, I’m sorry Lieu,” he grimaced, running a hand through his ungelled hair. 

“We caught a case, Rollins will catch you up, you guys go interview witnesses,” Olivia instructed, “Fin, the victim is coming in in twenty minutes to go over her statement.” 

“Got it,” Amanda and Fin chorused before she returned to her office. 

Sonny changed quickly, and brushed his teeth, trying to get the stale taste of bourbon out of his mouth, and gave his hair a quick comb through, though he knew it was an exercise in futility without anything to hold it in place, and wordlessly he settled into the passenger seat of Amanda’s squad car. 

It was nearly eight hours later when they finally returned to the precinct. They’d spent the entire day interviewing potential witnesses and canvassing the neighborhood trying to find someone who had seen what had happened to their current victim, only stopping to grab a quick bite to eat. Sonny was exhausted, and still bickering with Amanda when they reached their desks, both dropping into their seats with heavy sighs. 

Sonny reclined in the chair, his back popping uncomfortably, “shame we couldn’t get more out of that old lady, seemed like she knew more than she was letting on,” he commented, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. 

“We can go back tomorrow, you can use some of that charm once you, you know, shower,” she wrinkled her nose again teasingly. “You gonna explain what exactly happened to you last night?” 

Sonny was about to voice an indignant reply when the desk in front of him caught his eye. Well, less the desk and more a neatly folded newspaper, and gold leaf embossed envelope sitting on his keyboard. “I’m sure the assumptions you’ve made aren’t really that far off,” he noted, leaning forward in his chair to pick up the newspaper first. It was just the editorials section, and the familiar headline explained why it had found its way to his desk. Another Rhadamanthus publication. He was surprised, it was the closest together any two pieces had been published, only days apart. 

He scanned it quickly; it was a shorter piece though no less impactful than any of the others, and with a smile he noted, the main character was a detective. Sonny folded the paper back up carefully, he’d clip it out and add it to the book when he got home. Amanda had apparently realized she’d lost his attention, and had turned to her computer. He glanced at her for a moment before moving to the envelope. 

Sonny turned it over in his hands, fingers tracing the gold leaf embossed letters spelling out _Detective Sonny Carisi._ He tore it open carefully, and pulled out the letter inside. Handwritten, to his surprise, and he scanned it carefully.

Sonny,  
I realize in the fog of the morning  
I declined to get your number. However,  
I was hoping if you had the time, you’d join  
me for dinner tonight at nine.  
x Rafael

A phone number was etched across the bottom of the card, and Sonny checked his watch. It was only five, he’d still have time to get home and make himself presentable, but he paused. The night with Rafael had been fun. Maybe that was an understatement, but he hadn’t expected it to last beyond those stolen moments. He hadn’t even expected to spend the night. Surely the man, wealthy enough to buy and renovate a building in downtown Manhattan wasn’t seriously interested in a detective.

What was the point in agreeing to dinner? Another quick fuck maybe? Rafael letting him down easy? He could so easily just ignore the note, pretend he never got it, never face down the inevitable rejection. But even as the words were running through his head, his hands pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in the number, and a quick message. _Its Sonny, I’d love to._

***

Rafael had texted back almost immediately, with an offer to send a town car to pick him up, and gentle urging that there was no need to over dress, which had sent Sonny’s mind into a tail spin for a few hours. He’d clocked out soon after, heading straight home and into a scalding hot shower. He’d spent the next two hours combing through every article of clothing in his closet trying to figure out what exactly “over dressed” meant to the owner of a 1920’s inspired night club. 

With ten minutes to spare, he finally settled on a teal green button up and his nicest pair of dark wash jeans, and brown loafers for good measure. Sonny’s phone vibrated, and he recognized the number of the town car service. He hadn’t known whether to expect Rafael in the car, or if he planned to meet him wherever it was they were going. But the ride was a solitary one, and he could feel the anxiety rising in the pit of his stomach. 

He craned his neck to look out the window, watching as the buildings grew shorter and shorter, and his frown deepened as they hit the Triborough Bridge. The car driver had declined to tell him where they were going, and he wondered for a moment if he had placed too much trust in the man he’d met only the night before. Rafael didn’t seem exactly like the type to pick a restaurant in the Bronx, he’d expected some sort of fancy restaurant where they didn’t bother printing prices on menus. 

Instead, they pulled up to the curb next to a little hole in the wall, _Guajira_ hand painted on the glass windows but no other indicator. The driver nodded to Sonny, announcing the destination, and he climbed out of the car slowly, taking stock of where he was, Jerome Avenue, not exactly the nicest of neighborhoods, even for the Bronx, and his hip missed the weight of his pistol. 

Sonny paused for a moment before entering the little restaurant, if you could call it that. Only a few tables and booths, covered in red checked table cloths, a hand written specials menu behind a counter. He spotted Rafael immediately, dressed down in a dark blue sweater and chinos, chatting animatedly with a woman behind the counter. She must have said something, because Rafael turned around, greeting Sonny with a bit of a smirk. 

“You found the place,” Rafael commented with a grin, nodding to a booth in the back corner of the room, and they both took a seat. 

“I mean, your driver dropped me off so there wasn’t much searching I really had to do,” Sonny quipped back, earning a soft chuckle from the other man. 

“I hope this is alright,” Rafael gestured, “I rarely have an excuse to get back out this way, and its by far the best Cuban food north of Miami,” he slid a plastic covered menu to Sonny. “I imagine you were probably expecting fine dining.”

Sonny shook his head. “No this is great, my favorite Italian place on Staten Island has the same kind of vibe, I trust it’s authenticity. I’ve never had Cuban food though, honestly,” he closed the menu with a small smile, “what do you recommend?” He realized he was babbling, still nervous despite the fact that he’d been naked in bed with the man less than twenty-four hours before. 

Rafael settled back into the booth comfortably. “Never had Cuban food, huh.” Sonny could feel the heat rising on his cheeks under the man’s unwavering gaze, still smirking. “The classic is Ropa Vieja, my abuelita used to make it at least once a week, its almost as good here.” 

They both glanced up as the waitress reached their table. “Two café cubano, porfa,” Rafael requested with a soft smile before turning to the menu, “can we get an order of tostones and papas rellenas to start?” he turned to Sonny, “do you mind if I just order a bunch of things, you can try a bit of everything?” 

Sonny nodded, “that’s fine with me.” 

Rafael hadn’t been exaggerating, and a only a short while later their table was stuffed full of different dishes, and Sonny wasn’t positive it was all going to fit when the waitress brought it all over.

He was surprised, how easy it was to talk to Rafael, how much they had in common when he looked past the fact that Rafael owned a building full of apartments Sonny couldn’t even afford to rent, the fact that he was Cuban, and Sonny Italian. 

They had similar tastes in literature, and movies, and Sonny could even over look Rafael’s preference for Baroque art, since he admitted to owning a few post-impressionist pieces. And Sonny had been surprised to learn that Rafael had grown up there, on Jerome Avenue in the Bronx, in the projects, though he had dodged Sonny’s questions about how he had ended up where he was. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Rhadamanthus,” Sonny noted, a tostone in his hand, stomach protesting but it was too good to resist. “I mean, seems like everybody’s talking about them.” 

Rafael nodded, setting his fork down on his plate, stretching a little. “Yeah of course.”

“I mean, what do you think? Worth all the hype?” Sonny cocked his head to the side. “I’ll admit I’ve been following since the very first piece.”

Rafael shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve read them, can’t say I have strong opinions about them. What do you like about them?” He reached for his coffee cup, taking a small sip. 

“I don’t even know what it is, you know,” Sonny shrugged, sitting back in his seat, but a grin was pulling at his lips, eyes bright blue. “I just, its like they belong in a different time, something out of a bygone era. And the characters, everything they write is so short but the characters still seem so deep, fleshed out like you could sit down and have a conversation with them over a cup of coffee.” He was babbling again, he realized, and his face burned bright red. 

“Why do you think they’re still anonymous after all this time?” Rafael asked, raising an eyebrow at the man across the table. “I’d have thought that whomever it was would want to capitalize on the infamy by now.”

Sonny paused, setting down the last tostone, an admission of defeat. “I’ve thought about that a lot actually. I think whomever’s behind Rhadamanthus isn’t doing it for the fame, at least not personal fame. I think they want the writing to be able to speak for itself.” 

The waitress interrupted his musing, and Rafael pulled a hundred out of his wallet, handing it to her after declining to have the leftovers boxed up. He stood from the table and Sonny followed suit, pulling on their coats. 

“I’m not sure if you have an early morning, but I was wondering if you’d want to walk with me for a bit before we part ways,” Rafael asked as they stepped out into the brisk fall cold. 

Sonny glanced at his watch. He had to be back at the station in eight hours, but he wasn’t keen on the idea of letting whatever it was between them end so soon. “Around here?” he asked, he left the rest unspoken but the implication was clear- Jerome Avenue wasn’t exactly the safest neighborhoods. 

“You’re a detective, right?” Rafael shrugged with a smirk, “and this is home.” He started walking without waiting for Sonny to agree or decline, hands deep in his coat pockets. 

Sonny just smiled, quickening his step to catch up. 

***  
His eyes opened slowly, and Sonny nestled further into the silk sheets of Rafael’s bed, humming appreciatively at the gentle golden glow of the morning sun illuminating the room. He turned his head, Rafael was curled comfortably into his side, barest hint of morning stubble against his bare shoulder. It was Sunday, and he had nowhere to be, no office to rush off to. 

Rafael shifted, pressing further into Sonny’s side in his sleep. He could stay there forever, Sonny couldn’t help but think, but his stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up there, of course, wasn’t even the third or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while ago. They’d been seeing each other for a few months, a handful of dinners, a Broadway play, the Symphony once, to Sonny’s surprise. But more often than not, they ended up at Rafael’s. He didn’t mind that, the soft hypocrisy of gentle kisses, and bruising grips, sweat slicked skin on skin, it was an addiction he hadn’t even tried to fight. 

But he wanted more, he knew he wanted more, had known that from the very first morning, Rafael’s lazy smile, green eyes still dark with the haze of sleep. Sonny sighed, and let his hands trace the gentle curve of Rafael’s bicep, down his side to rest on his hip. It was temporary. That much he was sure of. Rafael would get bored of him, whatever the casual thing between him was, and find someone more suitable. 

His ringtone went off, interrupting the stillness of the early morning, and he groaned, reaching across Rafael to grab his phone off the table. 

“Carisi,” he mumbled, trying to keep his voice quiet, but it was a moot point, and Rafael shifted again beside him with a heavy lidded smile. 

“Sorry to call you in on your day off, Carisi, but we’ve got a case,” Liv’s voice was the last thing he had wanted to hear at that moment, but he confirmed that he’d be in as soon as possible, and disconnected the call. 

“I thought you had the day off,” Rafael murmured, his lips ghosting over Sonny’s shoulder as he spoke. 

“Sorry, life of a detective, days off are always subject to change,” Sonny sighed, sitting up slowly. 

“Surely the NYPD can manage without your questionable contributions,” Rafael remarked dryly, but Sonny could see the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips anyway. 

“I’m an invaluable asset, I’ll have you know, I’m not just a detective, I’m also admitted to the New York Bar,” he teased as he stood up, looking around for his clothes with a casual ease. 

“So you’ve said. Again, and again, and again,” Rafael rolled his eyes, sinking back into the plush pillows. Sonny laughed as he pulled his jeans on before pulling a grey henley back on, ever aware of the way Rafael’s gaze lingered on his skin. 

“I’ll call you later if this doesn’t end up being an all night thing,” Sonny added, stuffing his phone into his pocket and collecting his keys off the dresser. Rafael nodded and Sonny stepped out of the room. 

“Hey, Sonny?” The detective peeked his head back into the door way, gaze falling on the older man, still nestled comfortably into the bed. Rafael reached out his hand, and Sonny caught the silver glimpse of his handcuffs, smirk playing across Rafael’s face. “You forgot these.”

Sonny fought back the heated flush on his cheeks as he snatched the cuffs out of Rafael’s hand and returned them to his back pocket before heading back out the door. 

***

“Did you see this, Carisi?” Amanda asked, standing outside of one of the interrogation rooms, holding up a folded newspaper as Sonny walked up. 

“Another Rhadamanthus story?” He asked, taking the newspaper from her before looking through the glass into the interrogation room. 

“Published this morning, figured you probably didn’t have a chance to get the paper on your way in from…” she trailed off questioningly. The whole squad had been trying to figure out where Sonny disappeared to outside of working hours, ever since the incident with the pin-striped suit. He’d evaded their questioning so far, but he knew it was a matter of time. 

“What do we have?” He asked, gesturing to the glass where Olivia and Fin were talking to a suspect. It was an obvious redirection, and he knew Amanda would see straight through him, but the case was why they were all there on a Sunday morning, so she couldn’t exactly hold out. 

“Four-year-old girl was brought into the hospital this morning, signs of sexual abuse. That’s her father, the one who brought him in. Liv wants us to go hunt down the mother, apparently she works nights,” Amanda offered him the file, and Sonny thumbed through it quickly. 

“We heading out now? Or?” He asked after a few moments, tucking the file under his arm. 

Amanda nodded, and he followed her out of the precinct, nearly tripping over his feet as he scanned the newspaper she had handed him earlier. 

“I swear,” he started as he dropped into the passenger seat of the squad car, “if I didn’t know better I’d think that this character was based on me. This Italian detective?” Sonny frowned, the character had been a reoccurring theme in Rhadamanthus’s publications, and he couldn’t figure out why it struck him with such familiarity. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that the last four times that guy published something about the character,” Amanda rolled her eyes, more than a little exhausted by the point of conversation. “When are you just gonna admit that you’re a narcissist?”

Sonny scowled, “you haven’t even read them, how do you know its all in my head?” 

Amanda stopped at a stop light and swung her head around to look at him with an incredulous look on her face, “you expect me to believe that you’ve not only run into this mysterious figure in a city with more than a million people, and not just that, but you’ve made such an impression on him that he’s writing about you now?” 

Sonny huffed and settled back into the seat. She was right, as much as he loathed to admit, pure coincidence. 

“That’s what I thought,” she added for good measure. 

***

The case, it turned out, had been a consuming one, and it was nearly a week later when Sonny finally had a moment to catch his breath, and get home for more than a shower and change of clothes. He had explained the situation to an ever understanding Rafael over text, and hadn’t heard from him since. 

Sonny frowned as he sank into his couch, muscles and joints groaning in relief. Sure he had figured that whatever it was with Rafael was temporary, but he hadn’t expected it to end so suddenly. He reached for his phone, wondering if it was too presumptuous to text him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and decided against it. Rafael had set the unspoken boundaries months ago, and as much as Sonny wanted to push them, wanted it to be more, the idea of confronting rejection seemed worse than the slow fade out. 

His phone chimed, and he winced at the hopeful jump of his stomach. He turned the phone over in his hand, and his breath caught when he saw the name, Rafael. _Are you free tonight, I’d like to take you out._

For half a second, he contemplated declining. Surely ending things on his own terms was preferable to rejection, but his eyes scanned the text again, and again. Was it possible? That he wasn’t the only one who wanted more? He sighed audibly and typed back a quick confirmation. 

Rafael had never been to his apartment, not a conscious decision on Sonny’s part, but maybe that seed of doubt, that he’d change his opinion of the detective if he knew how tiny his fifth floor walk up was, compared to the sprawling luxury of Rafael’s penthouse. His stomach churned uncomfortably when Rafael responded that he’d pick the detective up, but couldn’t think of an excuse to decline. It was only an hour later when the sharp knock resounded through his small apartment. 

He opened the door to Rafael, those brilliant green eyes, and just a little out of breath, “no wonder you’re so skinny,” he remarked with a scowl, but it faded quickly as he stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to Sonny’s lips. 

“You might have had a point, if I actually managed to get my ass back here every night,” Sonny replied with a grin, letting his hand fall to Rafael’s hip. 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it you’re a detective, so busy,” Rafael rolled his eyes and took a step backwards, “come on, lets get going.” 

“You sure you don’t need a moment to catch your breath,” Sonny teased, pulling his coat off the hook. 

Rafael just shot him an unamused glare and started back down the stairs. Sonny laughed, pulling the door closed and followed after him. They fell into an easy pace next to each other as they walked down the street, and Sonny bit back his surprise as Rafael reached out, lacing their fingers together. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Sonny asked after a few blocks. He didn’t mind walking, even in the brisk New York January, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. 

“Just another block,” Rafael replied cryptically. 

Sonny raised an eyebrow when Rafael stopped unannounced on the street, digging into his pocket to pull out a set of keys. He craned around to look at the building they had stopped in front of. It was towering, with an ornate façade, and a faded worn theatre marquee, but the windows were boarded up, looked like they had been for a while. 

“What is this place?” Sonny asked, looking back over to Rafael, but he got no response. Instead, the man just slid a key into the boarded up front door, and pushed it open slowly before gesturing for Sonny to follow him. 

The inside was just about what Sonny would have expected from the outside, a cavernous hall, plumes of dust kicking up under their feet. The rows and rows of seats were tattered and rusted. Sonny coughed but looked around with wide eyes. Despite what seemed like a hundred years of decay, it was still beautiful, ornate. He glanced over at Rafael, who was watching him with something reminiscent of anticipation. 

Rafael smiled at him softly in the dim light, “wait here,” and Sonny watched him disappear into a dark alcove. 

The detective nearly jumped out of his clothes as the stage was suddenly illuminated, opening credits rolling framed by heavy velvet curtains. He recognized the film immediately, Casablanca, and without a word, but just a hint of a smile, Rafael reappeared. 

They both settled into creaking theatre seats, looking up at the screen with wide eyes, the familiar imperfect flicker of a film reel. Rafael reached out again, entwining his long fingers with Sonny’s. 

“Its my next project,” Rafael admitted, eyes still focused on the screen. “I was getting bored of the Vault. Thought I needed to take a step forward. I bought the building, I’m going to restore this place, bring it back to its former glory.” 

Sonny paused for a moment, “that’s amazing. This place must have been incredible back in the day,” he turned to look at Rafael, his sharp features illuminated by the silver grey glow of the screen, wide eyed with undeniable excitement. Sonny’s breath caught in his throat, a delicate hitch, but it was like the wind was knocked out of him, Rafael was stunning. He swallowed hard and turned back to the screen. 

“Speaking of next steps,” Rafael murmured quietly as the film opened up to Rick’s Café Americain, “I know we’ve been doing this for a while now,” Sonny peeled his eyes from the silver screen to look over at Rafael, the emerald gaze fixed on sapphire blue. 

Sonny swallowed hard. 

“I was wondering if you were interested in putting a name to this?” He gestured between them slowly. 

Sonny couldn’t bite back his wide grin, dimples settling deep into his cheeks. “I’d like that,” he nodded, throwing his arm over Rafael’s shoulder, and they both turned back to the screen. 

***

Sonny wasn’t exactly sure what a relationship with Rafael would entail, but not as much changed as he might have expected. They fell asleep together more often, Sonny cooked dinner more often than they went out, after Rafael had discovered the depths of Sonny’s culinary repertoire. They saw Broadway shows, Sonny dragged him to a Mets game in the spring. He had introduced Rafael to the squad a few months back, more out of necessity than anything, when he’d had an unfortunate run in with a perp and had ended up with a mild concussion. And Amanda and Olivia had cut their teasing the moment that Rafael strode into the hospital room in his tailored Brunello Cucinelli suit, checking his Rolex before greeting them. 

But more often than not, work dragged Sonny away in the middle of the night, or during dinner. The squad was still perpetually short staffed, and so overtime was more of a regularity than it had ever been before. 

To his credit, Rafael seemed to take it in stride, never complained when Sonny had to cut dinner short, or leave the warm safe haven of his bed before the sun had risen. He gave him a hard time, but never with any bite. 

Though, too, Rafael was often the interruption himself, his phone going off at all hours of the day, constant meetings. He had thrown himself head first into the restoration of the theater, and Sonny had to admit, as annoying as the interruptions were, it was incredible, seeing that new side of Rafael. The intensely committed business man, the stickler for details, the one who stood half naked in front of the wall of windows in his apartment, on the phone at three o’clock in the morning discussing with someone in Paris the finer details of the fabric he wanted to recover the seats with. 

It was almost a year into their relationship, tangled together on the plush couch in front of Rafael’s TV, an old movie playing across the screen though they’d both stopped paying attention a while ago. Rafael slid his hand under the hem of Sonny’s shirt, fingers grazing his side softly, gooseflesh erupting across his skin. 

“We finally set a date for the reopening of the theater,” Rafael murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Sonny’s jaw, and then another to his neck, and his collarbone. 

“You did? That’s amazing, babe,” Sonny shivered under the gentle touches. “When is it?” 

“This Friday, you’re invited, of course,” he added softly, nipping at the sensitive skin on Sonny’s neck. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sonny laughed, squirming under Rafael’s ministrations. 

“Its okay if you have to work, if all goes well there will be plenty of time to see it, so…” he trailed off, lips hovering over Sonny’s ear, breath hot and sticky. Sonny shuddered. 

“I’m serious, I won’t miss it.”

***

It was one of the coldest nights of the year, but that did nothing to deter the crowd lined up outside of the theater for opening night. The façade had been restored to its former glory, and Sonny looked up, in awe of the bright glow. It had been the Starlight theater, originally, built in the early twenties the guilded age, and Sonny couldn’t believe the details Rafael had managed to get right, the visible filaments in each bulb, true to the time. 

But they hadn’t just repainted the marquee, Rafael had renamed the theater, a testament to it’s rebirth from the tattered ruins. His mouth parted slightly, eyes fixed on the marquee from the sidewalk. The Sunlight Theater. A coincidence, he was almost certain. They’d been together for a while, sure, but Rafael wasn’t the grand romantic gestures type, wouldn’t have named a theater after him…

He tore his eyes away from the glowing marquee and scanned the crowd. He’d originally intended to meet Rafael at his apartment first, walk over together, but he had gotten caught up with an interrogation and barely managed to slip away with enough time to make it there. 

He caught a glimpse, a dark blue pins-striped suit, and relief flooded his senses. Rafael caught his eye, bright green and dark blue, and he pushed through the crowd, brows knitted with obvious anxiety. 

“You made it,” Rafael exhaled, and Sonny leaned in to drop a soft kiss on his wind flushed cheek. 

“Of course, I told you I wouldn’t miss it,” Sonny smiled brightly. “You never told me what you’re playing for opening night.”

Rafael quipped a small smirk, and took a step back, and it was only then that Sonny noticed a newspaper, clutched tightly in his hands. “Casablanca, I thought it was fitting,” he paused, glancing down to the newspaper. Slowly, he held it out to Sonny. 

Sonny took the paper, turning it over with a frown. Another Rhadamanthus piece, short, and sweet, he scanned it quickly. Another story about the detective, and Sonny’s frown deepened as he neared the end, eyes widening as he read the last line. A dedication, something Rhadamanthus had never done before. 

_To my love, Sonny._

His fist curled in the paper, looking up at Rafael, eyes wide, bright blue and searching. He opened his mouth, wracking his brain to find the words he was trying to say, but they escaped him. 

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine,” Rafael smiled softly.


End file.
